Remembering the Gospel at the Table: How Our Meals Can Point Us to Christ
Every year before Christmas, several women in my family gather to bake. We make batches of family-favorite cookies and more importantly, my mom’s Swedish Tea Ring. After she passed away, I felt a compulsion to keep baking it. Rolling out dough and sprinkling sugar help me savor the goodness of God during a holiday that tastes a little bitter after her death.
Do you have a meal like that? A recipe handed down that you make every year or a special dish that reminds you of a loved one? Meals tell a story, and they can help us remember not only the people in our lives, but also who God is and what he’s done. We see this in the biblical practice of feasting.
Before the first Passover feast took place, God commanded the Israelites to celebrate it year after year, even once they entered the Promised Land. Why? Most simply, to remember. Exodus 12:14 says, “This day shall be for you a memorial day, and you shall keep it as a feast to the LORD; throughout your generations, as a statute forever, you shall keep it as a feast.” In the book of Esther, after God used Esther to deliver the Jews from Haman’s evil plot, they celebrated Purim, “that these days should be remembered” (Est. 9:28). Jesus told his disciples to eat and drink bread and wine, representing his body and blood, “in remembrance of me” (Luke 22:19).
Passover, Purim, Communion, and other biblical feasts provide a liturgy of the table. They create an intentional time and space to remember. While it may be easy to understand the value of major biblical feasts, sometimes we forget how we can use our own tables—the ones scratched, stained, and covered in jelly. It’s worth noting that when God first gave instructions for Passover, he didn’t require only Moses, Aaron, and the leaders to participate. He told the people to make a meal—every year, in their homes, with their families. When children asked why they observed this feast, parents were to say, “It is because of what the LORD did for me when I came out of Egypt” (Ex. 13:8).
We can create that spirit of remembrance around our tables. The Old Testament feasts often celebrated God’s physical deliverance of his people. During Advent we celebrate the coming of Christ, the one who will deliver us not only from earthly oppressors, but also from sin and death. As we feast at Christmas, the food we share and traditions we observe can remind us of who he is and what he’s done.
I’m sure there were a few chaotic Passover meals throughout the history of Israel. I imagine some people felt stressed and others may have complained (just as they did with manna in the desert). Similarly, it wouldn’t be a holiday feast without a little chaos. Yet as we cook and bake and plan and prepare, we can remember that it’s all because of what the Lord has done for us. What better message to celebrate at Christmas than the birth of the Christ, the one who delivered us from the dominion of darkness.[1]
Practicing remembrance at the table can happen in all kinds of ways, such as simple conversations, teaching catechisms, prayer, and meaningful traditions. Growing up, my family lit Advent candles before each meal throughout the season. Every evening as we filled our plates, those purple, pink, and white candles formed the centerpiece, reminding us of the significance of Jesus’s birth. As we thank God for our food, our prayers aren’t a mindless practice, but a recognition that the nourishment for our bodies comes from the very hand of God. Even the food we eat can tell a story of the character and work of God in our lives.
Last Christmas, my daughter joined us as we made Swedish Tea Ring. She carefully tossed raisins onto her preschool-sized pastry. Baking with her and other women in my family flooded my mind with memories of how far God brought us. While I ache for my mom to be there, making a recipe so significant in my family’s life reminds me that God is good. He’s brought us through seasons of grief and joy, weariness and flourishing.
The death of my mom feels heavy in this season, but at the table I’m reminded all the more that because of Christ, grief will not have the final word. There’s a sweetness to be savored as we gather, a joy to hold on to as we tell our kids why we practice certain traditions or pull out worn and splattered recipe cards passed down through generations. Our God has delivered and redeemed. We celebrate with hope, remembering that a Savior has been born to us—the Messiah, the Lord.[2]
[1] Colossians 1:13
[2] Luke 2:11
